Cindy's Farewell Resident Evil Outbreak
by MissValerieTanner
Summary: Sitting in the police station, waiting for news of their situation, Cindy Lennox writes a letter about the night of the outbreak, hoping it will aid anyone who finds it or, at the very least, serve as her final goodbye.


Dear reader,

I pray that someone somewhere will find this letter. And I hope that when this then yellowed paper will be read in a time of peace, a time where the world is no longer ruled by the Umbrella Corporation.

And, if that cannot be so, then I pray that this letter will serve as a guide to the terrors trapped within Raccoon City.

I, along with seven other survivors, have traversed the entire city, searching from one demolished building to the next, hoping that within one, there is a safe haven to be found even if it can only be trusted for a few hours. That would be enough.

Our story began two nights ago in the cozy safety net that keeps everyone from thinking about reality: Jack's Bar. It was an ordinary night. I saw many of the regulars around. Kevin Ryman, for one. The infamous drunk that never pays his tab. Mark Wilkins and his partner, Bob, had stopped in for dinner. George Hamilton, the best doctor at Raccoon Hospital, sat at the bar watching the news. David King, a plumber, sat at one of the barrel tables by the windows, just gazing out at the night sky. Alyssa Ashcroft, a journalist for Raccoon Times, sat at one of the barrel tables as well, just typing away at her laptop, as usual. Jim Chapman, one of the subway workers and a very funny guy, was sitting at the end of the bar doing a crossword. I specifically remember him because he was the only one in the bar that night that didn't order anything. It's like he had come to the bar just to be there. And Yoko Suzuki: she was there too. She's a student at Raccoon University. I passed by her as I was delivering drinks, and…well, I never really saw her again until the madness started.

I dropped a glass onto the ground by accident. I had been startled by a mouse that ran under my feet. Somehow, as I look back upon that moment, the sound of the glass shattering was the last sound of sanity I was going to be able to hear for a long time.

Then, there came a knock at the door. Will, the bartender, opened the door…and he was bitten on the neck! Then, those…things started beating on the windows. Will fell to the ground, and as I tried to get to him, I saw David jump up from his seat. He pushed Alyssa out of the way as he moved the barrel tables in front of the door.

I leaned beside Will, trying to pull him to his feet. That was when it happened. Will, my friend, my boss! He tried to bite me! Blood flowed out of his mouth along with some unrecognizable yellowed fluid. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I felt a tug on my arm. Will had grabbed my leg, slowly drawing my ankle closer toward his open, drooling mouth.

The tug on my arm was harder now.

I was jerked to my feet, and my body was pressed against George's.

"Are you okay?" I heard his whisper.

I nodded…at least, I think I did.

He took my hand in his and dragged me to the door on the other side of the room. Kevin had already found the key and unlocked it. Dragging me through the threshold, George held tight to my waist as we were followed by the other six. I heard the distant sound of a nail gun, and I glanced back in time to see David bolting the door from the first floor closed with a shelter of two-by-fours.

Everything else that happened within that terrifying hour is pretty much a blur. We made it through the bar and jumped across the roof to the apartment building next door, but after that… my memory goes black.

If you go through what I did, then get used to the fact that soon most of your life will become a blur, just like blank pages in an unwritten book.

Right now, for the first time since this nightmare started, I actually feel safe. All eight of us as hulled up in the police station. We're waiting in the S.T.A.R.S. office to hear anything from Marvin Branagh. He said he was searching for a way to get us out of the city. I don't care how long it takes. I'm just glad to finally be able to have a chance to rest.

However, the feeling doesn't seem to be mutual among my fellow survivors.

Kevin looks like he's about collapse. Of course, he deserves the break more than any of us. He may be a jerk at times, but he took role as leader among us. He kept us together, he kept us strong, but most importantly, he kept us sane! For that, we owe him our lives.

Mark is asleep in the corner, but who can blame him? He's just a security guard. Surviving a horde of undead zombies isn't usually in his job description.

George looks as calm as can be, but I think he's acting that way to keep me from getting worried. Since this started, George was the first person I bonded with. We've gotten close, but I have to keep in mind that once this is all over, he'll be gone. And I have to keep repeating that to myself so that I don't go crazy wishing things could be different.

David is busy repairing our weapons. No one wants to admit it, but if Marvin isn't able to come through for us, then it means that we're back on the streets, fighting to survive.

Alyssa is playing with a digital recorder we found about twelve hours ago. Apparently, to her, flesh eating zombies are the story of the year. I don't understand it, but I don't have that writer's instinct and ambition. I'll never be able to understand what drives her.

Jim is relaxing in the corner, flipping his so called "lucky" coin. I imagine that he's actually playing "head-or-tails" with himself.

As for me, I'm struggling not to think of the outside world. My friends, family, all of them are miles away from here. They're all safe. They begged me to move away from this city, but I refused. I just always got so comfortable here…

But I am writing this letter to advertise our struggle, our fight! I have some advice for you as well, dear reader. Carry weapons! Find anything you can that could possibly be used as a weapon and use it. Sticks, guns, rocks, stun guns, baseball bats, steel pipes, broken glass shards, anything! Use your imagination. And no matter what: stay close to your group. Never stray. Live together or die alone.

Good luck to all of you. I hope you'll be safe and be able to get away from this hell. But, I pray that no one has to live through the nightmare that has taken control of my life. I remember back when I thought working two shifts at the bar was painful. Not anymore. Never again.

As a final note, if this is found before the nightmare has ended, please alert everyone to our story. Don't try to find us. We'll either be dead, forced to walk the earth as mindless zombies, or we'll have already escaped. Don't waste your time coming for us. Send this letter to everyone…anyone that will listen. News stations, radio stations…anyone! Spread the word.

Don't let your ignorance be the death of you. Let alone the death of millions.

Thank you for reading,  
Cindy Lennox  
J's Bar waitress


End file.
